I Can Still Feel His Breath On My Lips.

It was the first time we met in person. We were lying down on his floor, listening to appalachian fiddle music.

It was my first real kiss. I can still smell him, I can still taste him.

"That, as they would say back home in Kansas," as he donned his best accent, "Is somethin' friends don't do." And he smiled.

I actually felt loved. Not in the romantic way even, just... I felt comfortable. Safe. I'm crying remembering it. And I haven't really missed him, I haven't been ABLE to miss him, or able to remember the wonderful things about him.

It was a perfect kiss. It was the kind of kiss that could make you fall in love with someone.
slowrewind slowrewind
22-25, F
1 Response May 6, 2007

That sounds absolutely wonderful. I'm rather envious.